Call In the Cavalry
by peridxt
Summary: Martin/Sherlock. Lestrade looks into the death of the smoker in cabin pressure. Martin calls Sherlock nervously and his boyfriend comes to the rescue. Surprise all around.
"Excuse me."

Martin turned around to see who had spoken. Douglas glanced up but went back to scribbling something ona piece of paper. Carloyn looked up sharply and Arthur craned his neck around Douglas. Standing there was a tall man with silvering hair and a tired look on his face, flanked by an imposing woman with dark skin and a professional expression. The man in front held up a badge and said "Scotland Yard, Detective Inspector Lestrade. I need to ask you a few questions surrounding the death of a _." Douglas slowly looked back up and stared at Martin levelly, and Arthur looked confused. Carolyn's lips twitched but she was silent, and Martin drew in a sharp breath before he could stop himself. The detective inspector and his sergeant narrowed their eyes at him and he quailed.

He was hauled into a cell for questioning, blue-green eyes distressed. The rest of the MJN crew were brought in, but it was obvious Martin was the lead suspect.

"Um, do I get my one phone call?" Martin asked faintly and Lestrade sighed and nodded. "You can use the Yard's phone." "Umm, the person I need to contact prefers to text."

"Well too bad."

Martin tapped in the number and held the phone up to his ear, hands trembling. Douglas and Arthur and Carolyn were all standing next to him, and Douglas was watchig with interest. Carolyn couldn't care less, and Arthur was excited, but there was a slight nervously-scared edge to his tones and expressions, betraying how even Arthur knew they were in trouble.

The phone was picked up on the last ring, and at the click Martin breathed a sigh of relief, but his fingers still danced nervously across the table in front of him. The click teling him the other line was picked up was almost resentful, in a way that told you it was condescending to help you, and there was still no guarantee it would.

"What."

"H-hey, it's Martin."

"I know. You've been picked up by Scotland Yard, and they didn't let you text. What did you do?"

There was intrigue in his voice, but so hidden no one else but Martin could've heard it.

"There was a thing. On the plane. With MJN. Well, of course you know it's MJN that's the only plane I could be talk-"

"Spit it _out_ Martin." There was some amusement lurking behind the harsh whip crack of the other's voice.

"There was a passenger who wouldn't stop smoking, and something happened and can i please just not talk about it over the phone please," Martin spilled out, grimacing and twitching his fingers and fiddling with his sleeves.

"Fine. Who's pulled you in?" There was an angry sigh but Martin smiled slightly and breathed out.

"A detective inspector named Lestrade." There was a pause over the line. "You know him?"

"Yes."

There was a click and dial tone buzzed into Martin's ears. Martin tremblingly put the phone down. He looked back up and Douglas was looking at him with an eyebrow raised in question. "Oh sod off, Douglas."

There was a knock on the door of the interrogation room and some nameless low-ranking officer leaned in. "Visitor for Martin Crieff."

Martin looked up cautiously. The officer was waving a tall man with curly dark hair and a blue scarf with an impossible knot through. Martin smiled mutely and Sherlock breezed through the door and sat down across from Martin. Someone followed him in, which made Martin start.

"His name's John. We have a flatshare."

"Ah."

"What happened."

Martin fiddled with the bands on his sleeves and explained haltingly.

"A passenger came on one of our flights and wouldn't stop smoking even after Arthur told him not to and I went back to talk to him and." Martin swallowed and went on, leaving a gap in part of the story. "So he went to smoke in the loo and the smoke warning light turned on and following procedure, the steward went and." He sucked in a breath again and skipped another bit. "He had a heart attack and. And he didn't make it to the landing." Sherlock narrowed his eyes. He could fill in the gaps easy enough.

"Hm."

Martin's neck was flushed and it was starting to rise to his freckle-covered cheeks.

"Help?"

"Alright."

He got up and swished out of the room, muttering something to the officer who showed him out. "John" lingered and looked oddly at Martin.

"You know him?"

Martin's face flamed. "Uh yeah."

"How-?" John kinda sighed and shook his head.

Martin rolled his shoulders and looked off to the side. He had a scratchy feeling from the side and looked over meekly to see Douglas giving him that look he does when he wants to know something Martin won't tell him and always makes Martin so nervous he eventually blurts it out. Martin surrendered and snapped out to his coworker, "He was a customer all right?" Douglas looked skeptic. "I would remember someone like that."

"I do have to earn a living, Douglas. Carolyn." Carolyn snorted and Martin went on, clenching his hands slightly in frustration. "He was moving and needed a van. I already told you that's my real job. Profession." Martin added on the last word, gritting his teeth. He was remembering their adventure to see the polar bears, when Douglas had reminded him he wasn't a proffesional. Douglas obviously caught on to the reference, as something in his eyes changed and he relented.

"Why didn't you tell us you had a boyfriend, Skipper?" Arthur piped up and everyone turned to stare at him. Martin's entire face was tinged red with embarrasment.

"How do you figure that, Arthur?" Douglas asked coolly, and Arthur looked at everyone with confusion, giving the impression it should have been obivous.

"Well, I did go to that course on understanding people in Ipswich." Martin snorted quietly. "But why didn't you say anything Skip?"

Everyone turned back to Martin. Douglas drawled out, "Yes, why didn't you, captain?" Martin looked down at the table, pulling on his sleeves self-conciously.

"You're always making fun of me for not having a girlfriend, and that's easier than you making fun of me for having a boyfriend, so I didn't bother."

There was a slight pause and Martin didn't look up. Then finally, "Martin, I don't care."

Martin just let his head fall in his hands and said, in a muffled voice, "Arthur, let's play charades."

There was a cheer from Arthur and a groan from everyone else and a confused question from "John."

After Lestrade released them reluctantly and without giving them a reason, Martin and Sherlock met in the parking lot. Carolyn was talking to Arthur and Douglas was on his phone trying to get a cab, and John was trying to hail one down off the street for him and Sherlock.

"So you very indirectly killed one of your passengers."

"He was mean to Arthur."

"And you."

Martin looked closely at Sherlock's face. There wasn't any concern in the sharp contours and high cheekbones of the man, but it was Sherlock. Martin grinned at him, showing his teeth.

"It was nice to see you."

"Mm." Sherlock gave a noncomittal hum, but Martin saw it in his eyes. His smile stretched a little wider at the edges.

"Thank you."

Sherlock smiled a tiny smile and tilted his head down, and Martin stood up on the tips of his toes and they kissed briefly and sweetly.

As John and Sherlock took the cab back to Baker Street, John broke the silence.

"So."

Sherlock sighed. He would never hear the end of this.

"He's an airline pilot?"

"The captain."

"Oh. He doesn't look it."

"But he is. And don't say that in front of Martin."

There was another long pause until John spoke again.

"You know, it's all fine."

"I know John."


End file.
